


Hyperdontia

by sherlocksbees



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Job, Hand Job, Hyperdontia, M/M, Married Sex, Medical Kink, Praise Kink, Raking, Teeth, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 11:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3767212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocksbees/pseuds/sherlocksbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> "That was all behind them now. It was the sort of case that when it ended, they didn’t even celebrate, just came home with takeaway and screwed until they were satisfied." </em>
</p><p>Afflicted with an incredibly severe case of hyperdontia, Sherlock Holmes has sixty-two teeth in total. Sherlock and John stay up late after a case - fucking, and talking, and comforting each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hyperdontia

Sherlock only had enough energy to reach out his hand and grip the headboard of their bed when John finally thrusted into him the last time, grabbing his hips – making Sherlock’s head snap up and barely even able to breathe while he came. He heard John groan loudly behind him and knew that John had his orgasm just when he had. Sherlock heard his own breathing while he felt the aftershock of his orgasm ripple through him and steadied himself on his hands.

John moaned loudly, bent forward to kiss Sherlock’s scapula and back and whispered very quietly, “I’m going to pull out now, love, okay?”

Sherlock, very tiredly nodded his approval with a soft, “yes,” and felt John leave him and collapse amongst the tangled up blankets. In return, Sherlock watched him do this and slowly settled himself down, leaving his tired arse bare to the cold air in the room and resting his ear against John’s chest, listening to his heart beat.

John sniffed and then coughed before pushing his fingers through Sherlock’s sweaty curls. They stayed like that for a while, both of them just catching their breaths. Sherlock was fond of letting the oxytocin just sink into his bloodstream while John held him and he could see the reflecting lights of the busy London night play on the ceiling and wall of their shared room. For so long, it was just so quiet and calm, nothing like how it felt in his busy head. His eyes felt tired, it was such a long case that they had just wrapped up…at more than one point John had stormed out of the flat after fights with Sherlock, telling him it was “fucking impossible”. Hurtful words were said, but since it was wrapped up and the criminal was finally found trying to drown himself in the Thames…only to be caught by Sherlock (who had been in disguise at the time) and the police.

That was all behind them now. It was the sort of case that when it ended, they didn’t even celebrate, just came home with takeaway and screwed until they were satisfied.

“I love you, Sherlock,” John said, pushing the curly hair that was plastered against Sherlock’s forehead off of his face. Sherlock knew the tone, it was a “I have something to talk to you about” tone, and the words, “I love you, Sherlock” was not a clause in of itself but lead up to some inane and irrational digression for John to say for the sake of saying it.

“Shh,” Sherlock shushed him.

“What?” John asked.

“I’m counting your heart beats per minute.”

John stayed quiet to humor him.

Sherlock smiled against John’s hairy chest and then nuzzled his face into his pectoral, “Okay, you were going to say something.”

“I’m….you know I’m not good at talking about things like this,” John replied, scratching his eyebrow while he said it. Sherlock rolled over so his head was leaning against John’s stomach, but his knees and abdomen were pointed to John’s face, in fetal position.

Sherlock didn’t say anything but held audience for him while John tried to make up the words, “The past few months have been hard. I haven’t been the nicest person to live with. I’m glad that it’s over.”

“London will be happy, John,” Sherlock replied, kissing his chest gently and with great care, “It will be indebted to our work together.”

John smiled broadly and began giving Sherlock a scalp massage, “Take a shower with me, Mr. Holmes-Watson?”

The two men got up from their bed, Sherlock helping John up with his wonky knees, which were often weak after pistoning so hard into Sherlock. Sherlock was not a fan of taking showers, however he was happy to take showers with John. Showering with John often meant a myriad of delights such as back rubs, scalp massages, wet hand jobs, analingus, fellatio, and the simple pleasure of seeing John Watson naked.

That night Sherlock was standing under the stream of water from the shower-head, steam clogging up the atmosphere in the room while John held him closely and kissed him thoroughly.

John kissed Sherlock’s eyelids gently and asked, “Are you feeling well? I know you sometimes eat too fast.”

“No, John I’m fine,” Sherlock groaned, cutting John off mid-sentence, “please don’t bore me with those questions.”

“I’m your doctor, it’s my job to bore you with questions,” John replied, grabbing a bar of soap and beginning to lather Sherlock’s back.

“Well, you’re doing a fantastic job and deserve a raise,” Sherlock grumbled half-heartedly.

John’s gentle and loving hands rubbed Sherlock’s back and Sherlock did the same for John’s shoulders. John pulled off from the wet and tired kiss, and asked, “Can I see your teeth? I need to look at them.”

Sherlock did not grumble or moan about this and opened his mouth to let John peek inside, even crouching down a bit, letting his loving husband do the annual check.

“When did you last see your dentist, Sherlock?” John asked.

“Two months ago,” Sherlock replied.

“What did she say?”

“Everything was fine,” Sherlock replied, “but she wants me to order a new guard every year because I’ve been….using it too much.”

They smiled at each other smugly and John turned off the shower before asking if Sherlock was done. Leaving the bathroom they grabbed towels and John ordered Sherlock to sit on the bed on his towel so he could thoroughly rub dry his hair. Sherlock hummed and stretched at the wonderful feeling of John’s hands every single time they hit his scalp.

“You love that, don’t you?”

Sherlock moaned a “yes”.

“Let’s sleep in the buff,” John said, “I don’t have any clean pants left.”

“I’ve never been in love with you more!” Sherlock said, and then tackled John down into bed.

John chuckled, “Unlike you, innit, Sherlock? I think the sleep deprivation is getting to you.”

“I’m not tired,” Sherlock replied levelly, shaking his head and leaning it onto John’s shoulder while the two got situated back into bed again, leaving the lamp on to see each other properly, “I could stay awake for a few more hours.”

John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hand and asked, “Why are you so concerned with me sleeping in the buff?”

“Sleeping naked has been proven over and over again by polysomnographic technologists. Your body temperature drops when you’re asleep and if your clothes inhibit that you won’t be able to get as deeply into REM sleep as possible.”

“Big words for someone that never sleeps at all,” John muttered.

“Let’s stay up longer, I want to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“Tell me about your sexual fantasies.”

“Oh, it’s going to be one of those nights?”

“What does that mean? One of those nights? You keep saying that,” Sherlock’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked up at John, “You said that on our wedding night as well, but what does it _mean?_ You’ve never explained yourself.”

“I’m just …making an observation….that your….libido has increased somewhat…” John explained awkwardly.

“Is that bothersome?”

“No no! In fact…it’s quite the opposite,” John smiled.

Sherlock smiled back.

“ _Please_ tell me about your sexual fantasies?” Sherlock asked politely.

“It’s been years. You’ve deduced them by now of what I haven’t expressly told you.”

“I still want to hear them.”

“Fine,” John replied, and laughed despite himself, “I love giving analingus and cunnilingus…and receiving fellatio…and…”

“Save the medical talk, John,” Sherlock sighed, “Come on, a fantasy! Something from when you were a teenager.”

“When I was a teenager? When I was a teenager there was nothing that I wasn’t thinking of that wasn’t somehow a sexual fantasy. I was just the horniest kid you could have imagined.”

“It’s nice to know some things never change.”

John laughed uproariously which brought on Sherlock’s own laughter.

“Okay…fine…when I was…just…I don’t know…I was just hitting puberty. The Bond movies were coming out. Sean Connery.”

“You had _‘a thing’_ for him?” Sherlock asked.

“Yeah, that’s when I knew.”

“James Bond? Really?”

“Yes,” John blushed, “He was just incredibly attractive to me. It was exactly like seeing a beautiful woman at the cinema except it was James Bond and he had a gun and he lead amazing and exciting missions and he was so….sexy. I mean the whole thing was seductive, you couldn’t really blame me. What about you? The first man you ever…noticed?”

Sherlock nodded, “My dentist.”

John laughed but Sherlock stared, almost looked hurt.

“No wait…really? You’re not shitting me, are you?”

“Why would I joke about being sexually attracted to my dentist?” Sherlock stared, his stony face a complete placid look of seriousness, he then mock-joked, “ ‘Knock-knock.’ ‘Who’s there?’ ‘It’s your dentist.’ ‘I’ll suck your cock.’ What kind of joke is that, John?”

“No, you’re right. Continue. You never told me about this, you know? Not properly.”

“Certainly I’ve told you about my teeth,” Sherlock insisted.

“No, never,” John replied, “You just told me you had to wear a guard to suck my cock and when you slept and that was it. I didn’t even see all of them until that time your gums started turning black and you asked me to have a look.”

“I guess I’ll have to tell you the story then,” Sherlock replied, steepling his hands under his chin and setting his head on John’s chest.

“I’ve been wanting to hear it,” John insisted.

“It wasn’t my natal teeth,” Sherlock began, “All of those were fine. You know this, John. I had the normal amount of natal teeth for a child, but when they started falling out more and more of them just kept coming. The first supernumerary tooth I ever got was when I was twelve and it was an extra tooth just in between my maxillary incisors. Mother didn’t know what to do, so she went ahead and took me to the dentist. He diagnosed me with it, said I had hyperdontia and even shook my hand. I was the only case he’d ever worked with. There’s only a four percent chance a person will get hyperdontia in their life time, and it’s double for males. The dentist ran tests, but I didn’t have any tumors or cysts and said that I’d just have an extra tooth for all of my life and sent us back and that was it.”

“How many teeth do you have now?” John asked.

“Sixty two.”

“That’s double the amount of permanent teeth an adult is supposed to have! What happened? What, did you just grow more and more teeth?” John asked.

“No, sixty-four would be double the amount. I only have thirty supernumerary teeth,” Sherlock replied, “and, essentially, yes. They just started coming in as I lost my natal teeth. It broke skin on my dental arches and I was teething again as a teenager. I was constantly in pain and  every few weeks a new tooth was coming in, and of course they were all the most difficult supernumerary teeth to grow. They’re all supplemental teeth now. When I was a kid it was a myriad of all of the different kinds of supernumerary teeth a person can have. I had tuberculate and compound odontoma and complex odontoma. It was a night-mare.”

“I look in your mouth now,” John says and sits up in bed, cradling Sherlock’s head so it’s sitting in his lap. Sherlock opens his mouth and shows all sixty two of his teeth to John, “and it basically looks like you just have two sets of teeth in your mouth. Every single time I look in here and I think ‘this can’t be physically possible’.”

“It is,” Sherlock said, “My dentist was so enthralled by my case, and asked if he could write an ongoing report about me to my mother. Promised her some of the royalties and to keep me anonymous. He was a good man. Every month I’d get pulled out of school and I’d lay down and he’d make all of the pain go away and he’d call me brilliant and amazing and so on while he cleaned my teeth and took notes and photographs for evidence. He taught me how to floss and brush efficiently. He had me see him once a month, every month. It was…heaven. He gave me an analgesic to rub on my gums and it made all of the pain go away and then he’d spend up to an hour just looking at me and saying ‘remarkable, stunning’.”

“Is this your…sexual fantasy? Did you just have a crush on him?”

“Well, I was a child,” Sherlock replied, “I saw him all the way until I was eighteen – my teeth were still culminating together and I was also seeing an orthodontist to make them get into some sort of order. When I was twelve, it was a harmless crush. He was just a man I liked and looked up to…but when I hit puberty…my thoughts became a bit more salacious.”

“What did you think about?” John asked, carding his hands through Sherlock’s hair.

Sherlock shut his eyes and smiled happily, “Thinking about him telling me to take off my clothes because he wanted to do some more exams. I became the only person on Earth that wanted to ‘play dentist’ in Uni.”

“We could play dentist some time,” John said, “I could be your dentist.”

“Could you?”

“Yes. Open wide for me, Sherlock,” John said in his most professional voice, and Sherlock vey happily obliged, “Oh, look at that. Absolutely gorgeous as ever. A few differences since the last time I saw you but simply brilliant.”

John looked into Sherlock’s mouth, and saw the two perfect sets of teeth, perfectly washed and flossed every single day. Both sets seemed to be sharing the same dental arch. They were packed together, one front row and one back row, and John could now understand Sherlock constantly rubbing his jaw and his past complaints as a child. People only had to teethe once when they were children and then the permanent adult teeth just came in easily…Sherlock, though, had to teethe twice for sixty-two fucking teeth. They were all gorgeous.

John pushed his hand in and touched them all with the tip of his finer, “Oh, I can tell you are so wonderful at taking care of them, aren’t you, Mr. Holmes-Watson? Yes, these are two absolutely perfect sets of teeth. Now, I’d like to talk to you about your guard. Are you using it like I’ve directed you to, Mr. Holmes-Watson?”

“I am,” Sherlock said happily, loving the attention, “I always wear it when I’m sucking my husband’s cock.”

“Well, it’s starting to get a bit worn out,” John replied, “so I’m going to want you to not wear it when you’re doing that anymore so you can have the protection when you’re asleep.”

“Are you sure, sir?” Sherlock asked, acting innocent, “I’ve never performed fellatio without the guard.”

“Well, there is a first for everything, isn’t there, Mr. Holmes-Watson?” John asked beginning to work his cock with his left hand.

“If you’re giving your medical orders, sir…” Sherlock trailed off, licking his lips while he watched.

“One must always follow their doctor, don’t you think, Sherlock?” John asked.

“Yes, sir.” Sherlock replied and opened his mouth to take John’s thick cock into him, not even bothering to hide his teeth. If John wanted to be raked than he was more than happy to oblige. Sherlock watched John’s face as he let all of his teeth glide very, very gently over the under and over side of John’s hard cock. John’s head tipped back onto the head board.

“What a good patient you are, Sherlock,” John said happily while he got his cock serviced.

“Are my teeth to your liking, sir?” Sherlock asked.

“More than that,” John gasped softly, rubbing Sherlock’s hair back.

Sherlock let himself go into the blow job and pumped John’s cock with abandon. The glans pushed into his throat and he shamelessly worked the shaft with his hand, letting his maxillary incisors hit just the top of John’s cock every once in a while. Not more than to be a gentle brushing…

Sherlock kissed and licked John’s frenulum and peaked his eyes open through his eyelashes, “Should I just throw the guard out? It’s useless, isn’t it? I know you love this.”

“I’m really starting to,” John said appreciatively, touching Sherlock’s head, “God, your mouth is just as perfect as all of the rest of you.”

In reply, Sherlock enthusiastically pushed John’s entire cock into his mouth and sucked hard, going under to grip John’s bollocks and encourage him to come down his throat.

John’s mouth hung open and his eyes slammed shut, squeezing together. He inhaled sharply, “Oh God, Sherlock. You’re so fucking perfect. Oh, Jesus Christ. I love you. I love your teeth. I love everything about you. I swear if I don’t come in your mouth right now I’m going to turn you over and top you again until you can only remember my name.”

With a final growl and one last stroke of both sets of maxillary incisors against his shaft, John came in his mouth and messily over his lips.

“Oh, fuck,” John finished.

“You’ve always got such a filthy mouth in those last few seconds,” Sherlock said.

John hummed, licked his lips happily and swiped his thumb over the come sitting on Sherlock’s cheek, offering it. Sherlock sucked it all up and swallowed.

“You’re such a porn star about everything,” John complimented.

“Thank you,” Sherlock replied, and squirmed happily when John brought his left hand down to begin giving Sherlock a few soft strokes. Sherlock’s head lolled back and his rib-cage expanded with his first inhale.

“As I was saying, Mr. Holmes-Watson,” John returned to his professional voice, Sherlock moaned and wriggled on John’s lap, “Your beautiful teeth have been moving again. I’m afraid I’m going to have to call you in for more appointments in the next coming years, probably twice a month, I suggest. Oh, I’m going to have to keep a very, very close eye on those gorgeous teeth of yours, yes, you’ll be my brilliant experiment.”

“I’m going to love to show you off to the rest of my community,” John said and then switched hands, his right pumping Sherlock and the other dipping between his thighs to get to his hole. Sherlock opened his legs wide, wordlessly encouraging John while he spoke, “Why, they’ll all be gathered in here, maybe five or six just to come in and look at your amazing and beautiful mouth. I’m certain that it can conduct absolute magic. How do you feel about that, Mr. Holmes-Watson? Would you agree to being my little experiment?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied in a high voice while he heard John spit onto his fingers and then begin circling his fingertips over the relaxed rim of Sherlock’s hole. He began keening while John pushed his finger in.

“You’re such a good patient, Mr. Holmes-Watson. I’m so glad that you’ve agreed. Oh, my colleagues are going to have so many things to say when they see you in the office soon,” John found Sherlock’s most favorite place to be touched, then. It was the throbbing and sensitive vein that just lead up to his prostate and John was rubbing it gently, making Sherlock gasp and move his hips, “Oh, they’ll look at you and say that you’re just the most beautiful specimen that they’ve ever seen a true testament to the elegant adaptation of our species, don’t you think? Oh, they’ll have words for you, don’t you think? Stunning. Brilliant. Beautiful. Gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Sherlock was barely able to say while he gripped the sheets on the bed that he could find. He’d had his head tipped back and mouth wide open like he was back and sitting in his dentist’s chair. With his pleading eyes closed, he pumped into John’s fist and spilled all over his knuckles and onto his sparse treasure trail. After his second (or was it third? He had trouble remembering) orgasm of the night, he collapsed completely and his eyes began fluttering between wake and sleep.

“Oh, you’re tired,” was the last thing he heard John say, bringing his fingers out and those deep blue tired eyes looking on him with a profound love, and Sherlock fell asleep.  


End file.
